


Three Dads

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash), UltimateFandomTrash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gore, Nightmares, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Zombies, and I still kind of write him as being a kid, tagging it as underage since Jack's age is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 12:19:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19768072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61, https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/UltimateFandomTrash
Summary: Sam and Jack try finding their own ways to heal after what Lucifer did them in the church.TAKE ME TO CHURCH SERIES SEQUEL.





	Three Dads

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to the series [Take Me to Church](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1063445), and it does have a cliffhanger. Leaving it with a happy ending just didn't feel right. Maybe I'll write more. Who knows? No promises. If anything, it should just tie right back in to season 14 almost perfectly with just some changes. More trauma, and Jack has... well, you'll find out.

“Sammy, something happened in that church.”

Dean was in Sam’s room; it was about the only place with privacy now. It was late, after midnight, and Sam had been trying to coordinate the hunters from Apocalypse World all day.

Trying and failing.

He’d failed them.

After…

After Lucifer, and Dean’s possession he’d locked himself away to heal, and Castiel had taken over as best he could. There had been knocks on his door constantly, asking if he was okay, what was wrong with him, how he could do this to them, why he was so weak, why wasn’t he looking for his brother.

Sam had been in too much agony to move.

He’d been wasting away rather than healing.

And one day he’d been able to come out of his room.

Jack avoided him. Jack avoided everyone.

Sam lied to Castiel that he’d been sick, and Cas could heal that, could heal the malnourishment he had from the weeks of barely eating and not drinking enough, so he did.

Time to find Dean.

They’d found him, they’d gotten him back, and now here they were, a freakin’ interrogation in his bedroom while the people from Apocalypse World hated both of them: one for being possessed by Michael, the other for being completely useless.

“What, you mean you killed Lucifer?”

Dean shook his head, and ran a hand through his hair, moving the chair that he sat in closer to Sam’s bed.

“No, before. Something happened before that. Jack was hurt, you were… You were on the floor. It… It smelled weird. Something happened.”

“Dean, no.”

“Sam—”

“We’re not going there.”

“Why not?”

“You just got over being freakin’ possessed!” Sam reasoned, spreading his arms out to make himself look bigger as he argued, hoping Dean would drop this, hot fear sitting in his stomach, and rising up into his chest. “And-and we’re not even _sure_ if Michael’s gone. He just let you go? Seriously? That doesn’t sound right to me.”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t a friggin’ picnic!” Dean cried, getting up and knocking the chair aside.

Sam flinched, but he was up off the bed anyway, standing up to Dean.

“You don’t think I know that? I’ve had one of those things in my head before!”

“Then talk to me about it! Talk to me about the church! Something happened! Something fucking happened! I mean, look at you! Cas healed you, I know he did, but he didn’t heal all of you. The people from Apocalypse World can’t stand you; _Jack_ , our son, won’t look at you. Come on, what happened?”

Dean had gotten too close, so Sam shoved him back.

“You need to get some rest,” he told him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Sammy, I just want to _help_.”

“Yelling in my face is real helpful.”

Dean lost his energy at that, sinking down onto Sam’s desk, face in his hands, tears in his eyes.

“God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just… I wanna help you.”

“Then go to bed, get some sleep. You haven’t had it easy.”

Dean looked at him now, and Sam was sure he saw memories flashing in his eyes. The church. The same was happening for Sam.

Lucifer…

He couldn’t even put thought to them, so consumed by a darkness, that he collapsed onto his bed, unable to breathe, head spinning, tears building up in his eyes.

“Neither have you,” Dean told him.

“I’m fine,” Sam forced out.

“No, Sammy, you’re not.”

“Dean, if you keep pushing, you’re getting anything out of me.”

“Right. Sorry. I’ll uh…” He stood, clearing his throat, and then righted Sam’s chair. “I’ll just go to bed.”

He ruffled Sam’s hair, making him start, goosebumps rising up on his arms from the touch, and then his brother left.

Sam was all alone and left wondering how much his brother knew about that night.

Jack had heard Sam and Dean yelling and he worried one of them would come to check on him next. Castiel had tried to talk to him about the night that Lucifer had gotten killed, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t even talk to Sam about it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t look at Sam. When he did he saw his bare skin, he saw blood, he saw him screaming.

He saw his biological father filled with sick delight at hurting them.

Jack lay on his bed after a training session with Bobby, his face hurting from a punch he’d received, but the area over his hips was hurting even more. He absentmindedly rubbed at them.

There was a flash of the golden blade going into him, and he winced, and then it went into him again, and Jack tensed, toes curling in his shoes.

He could talk to Sam. He could. But Sam wasn’t doing well.

He’d locked himself away after the… Afterwards.

Jack had sort of done the same. He’d been out of his room, yes, talking to people, but he hadn’t really talked to them, wasn’t sure he’d even really seen them. He hadn’t connected, hadn’t connected with himself. Or… maybe he had. He couldn’t tell. Nowadays he just felt… well, he didn’t feel much. He didn’t care.

Someone made dinner?

He didn’t care.

Bobby came up with a new training plan for him?

He didn’t care.

Larson got bitten during a hunt with a vampire?

He didn’t care.

Maia got stabbed by a human protecting a demon?

He didn’t care.

Jack didn’t care.

He thought maybe somewhere he did.

Either that or he cared that he didn’t care.

There was Maggie, of course. She tried to talk to him, and Jack let her. She had energy, and excitement, even with all the trauma she’d been through, and Jack wanted to be like her. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know how.

Part of him wanted to go talk to her now, but he didn’t, he just stayed in his room.

Jack didn’t even bother taking off his clothes or getting under the covers before he went to sleep, and he waited for the nightmares to take him as they always did.

The church.

Blood.

Sam screaming.

Skin.

Lucifer moaning.

That odd word that Sam had taught him: rape.

Rape, rape, rape.

Stabbing. His hips aching, aching.

Blood.

Screaming.

Rape.

Skin.

A flash of the cross.

The red, blue, and gold designs of the floor rushed up at him, coated in his and Sam’s blood.

Jack woke up, sweating, curled up on his side, whimpering and moaning, shuddering. A sob tore from his throat.

There was a knock on his door.

“Go away, Cas!” he cried, not in the mood for talking to his father.

He curled in on himself further, tears streaking his face, holding himself, trying to not cry even more.

Sam had been strong afterwards. He’d taken care of Jack. Now it was Jack’s turn to be strong. He had to be.

“It’s not Cas,” a feminine voice called to him tentatively.

Jack sniffled and frowned.

Maggie.

Hurriedly, he sat up, and tried fixing his hair (it was sweaty), righting his clothes that he’d gone to bed in, and wiping his face.

“Uh… Just a minute.”

Jack turned his lamp on, and he ended up taking his sweatshirt off, feeling much too hot. He looked down at his t-shirt he wore underneath, realized it was covered in sweat, and started searching for a clean one to put on.

“Jack, are you alright?”

“Y-yeah,” he called, voice cracking. He sniffled again, tears still trying to run, nightmares fresh in his mind. “Just hold on.”

He found a _The Force Awakens_ t-shirt featuring Rey and Kylo Ren juxtaposed on it, and he slipped the shirt on, and then went to open the door, fixing his hair even more before he turned the knob.

It was dark in the hall, and Jack peered out nervously around Maggie once he’d looked at her. She was in pajama bottoms, a tank top, and a pink sweatshirt that was halfway zipped up, her hair in a messy bun. Jack didn’t like the feelings he got from seeing her like that. She was… cute.

“I… I heard you um… sobbing.”

His cheeks reddened, and he stood in the doorway, eyes big as he looked at her.

“I…”

“It’s okay. I get nightmares too,” she admitted, looking at her feet now. “Can I come in?”

“Yes,” Jack answered, stepping aside to let her do so.

He closed the door behind her, peering out into the hall once more, anxiety prickling at the back of his neck, feeling like he was breaking some unspoken rule. When he turned back Maggie was awkwardly walking about his room, swinging her hands, which she now had in fists, gripping at the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

Jack wiped his hands off on his pants.

“Is that your mom?” she asked, pointing at the picture he had on his bedside table.

Jack smiled, looking over at the happy image of Kelly. It wasn’t all he knew of her since he had memories of connecting with her when he’d been in the womb, but it was a nice reminder of the woman she’d been, the kindness and strength she’d had.

“Yeah.”

Maggie sat down on his bed, grabbing the frame, looking at her.

“She was pretty.” A blush formed on her cheeks, and she got out, “Guess that’s where you get it from.”

A feeling Jack had never had before bubbled up into his throat, and he found himself laughing, but it came out quietly, like he was nervous.

“Guess so.”

Maggie shot him a shy smile, put the picture frame back down, and then pat the bed, a sign to have him sit next to her. “So what was your nightmare about?”

Jack swallowed roughly, flashes of Sam’s suffering in his head, and he grew nauseous.

“Uh…”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t like to talk about it. It was… scary. And gross. It’s weird.”

“Any parts that aren’t weird?”

“I had this thing happen to me.”

“Mm hmm?”

“I got stabbed. It still hurts sometimes,” he admitted, voice quiet.

He hated that it still hurt. Why did it? Jack knew he could ask Castiel about it, maybe even Sam, but he couldn’t bring himself to. When he looked at them he saw his own suffering, and he saw Sam’s. He saw shame, he saw sex, and rape, and being inside someone else, and Lucifer, and pain, and fear, and he sometimes heard things, in Lucifer’s voice. Things that he heard now:

“ _...daddy Sammy..._

“ _...wanna see why daddy here is so scared of me?_ ”

“ _Thanks, daddy. Wanted you like that eventually._ ”

“ _I’m inside your daddy._ ”

“ _You like seeing daddy get fucked?!_ ”

“ _...a little surprise for you and daddy here._ ”

And that was only a little bit of it.

Lucifer had ruined the word for him, even the word _dad_ . Jack couldn’t utter it anymore. At first he’d been able to, still called Sam _dad_ , but now…

“My old injuries hurt sometimes too,” Maggie said, drawing Jack from the memories darkening his mind.

“They do?”

“Sometimes rubbing at them helps. It seems to at least bring some comfort. Where’d you get stabbed?”

“A-above my hips.”

Maggie blushed, but after some awkward shuffling, Jack was lying on his back, his shirt lifted up, and she was gently caressing him.

Jack swallowed roughly, not sure he liked this, though he was aching.

“Here?”

He nodded.

“So what’s _Star Wars_?” Maggie asked, noticing his shirt.

Jack smiled, and he told her all about it while she stroked at his skin, and it made him feel a lot better.

It ended up being a routine for them, even if neither of them had nightmares. One of the nights he went to her room, and found that it was as sparsely decorated as his. He’d massage her hurts, she’d massage his, they’d talk.

But he’d never talk about that night except for the stabbings.

Not Sam.

He couldn’t.

Her hands were nice, gentle with him. Her skin was nice, too. Soft.

But the more he had thoughts about her, the more he had nightmares, the more skin he saw, the more he felt sickened by the idea of liking Maggie.

She was pretty.

“ _What’s sex?_ ” Jack remembered himself asking.

“ _It’s… It’s sort of what Lucifer did to me. But… it’s not supposed to be like that, not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be something between two people who… who want it, who are in love, or attracted to each other, or both._ ”

One night, Jack was massaging Maggie’s back, and she was only in her tank top, making it easier for Jack to reach where she was hurting, and he was thinking of that conversation, sickened, nervous, and he asked, “Maggie, are you attracted to me?”

She laughed, turning to him, taking his hands.

“Jack—”

“Are you?”

“I thought that was obvious.”

He smiled, unsure of how to respond.

“Oh.”

Did that mean…?

Did she want to have sex with him?

“Are you…”

“You’re pretty,” Jack answered honestly. “I like you.”

Maggie leaned forward and kissed him. Jack froze, eyes widening, and his back went rigid.

“I have to go.”

He grabbed his sweatshirt he’d taken with him, and hurried from her room, not able to look at the confusion and hurt on her face.

Jack went to bed with hatred at himself, and disgust, in his stomach.

“Did you know Jack has a girlfriend?” Dean asked Sam one day over breakfast.

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Dude, you are oblivious.”

“No, I’m not,” Sam argued.

“Then you tell me who.”

“Uh… Maggie?” Sam guessed.

“Yep.”

Sam sat back, confused, staring hard into his cereal.

Was Jack _okay?_ God, Sam had to talk to him. He’d hardly spoken to him since… and now... Was this his way of trying to deal with it? It spoke of Dean’s way of trying to deal with things and he wasn’t sure it was healthy, or maybe he was fine.

_No, of course he’s not._

Isolating, not talking to him, clearly disconnecting from everything.

His son wasn’t okay.

“Sam, you good?”

“No,” Sam heaved out, pushing his cereal aside, disgusted with himself.

He couldn’t even get himself to talk to his own son. The idea of it struck fear in him, stabbing his stomach.

“You wanna talk about it? I’m up for trying that talking thing you always pester me about.”

“You just want me to tell you about that night in the church,” Sam growled.

“I talked to Cas about that,” Dean began, startling Sam, making him almost snarl at him defensively, “and he told me you wouldn’t let him heal you.”

“I was fine.”

“You were _bleeding_. That ain’t fine.”

“ _I was fine._ ”

“Then why’d you lock yourself in your room for a couple weeks?” Sam sat back, stunned, not feeling up for this conversation. “Yeah, Cas told me that too.”

“Well, if Cas wants to tell you everything, why don’t we get him in here?”

Sam was just about ready to grab his coffee and splash it on his brother, so instead he got up, and made to leave.

“Have a nice day,” Sam told him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m taking Jack, and I’m finding a case. He and I need some time together.”

“A case,” Jack stated, a near-question in his tone. He wasn’t looking at Sam, staring down at his bed. Maggie would’ve usually been in his room at this time since they’d started seeing each other during the day, but they hadn’t talked or even smiled at each other since the kiss last night. They’d avoided looking at each other.

“Yeah. I was thinking we could try finding something with zombies. You up for it?”

Jack perked up at zombies, but still anxiety sat tight in his stomach, and he shrugged.

Sam sat down in the chair by his bed, and Jack shifted, trying to make it seem like he was listening earnestly, but he wasn’t ready to look at him.

“Jack, we can’t do this. We can’t keep avoiding each other. You’re my kid, okay? We-we need some time together to get away from all this. It’ll help. We can talk, clear our heads. Hell, I need to get away. Dean won’t stop pestering me, and maybe you want to get away too.” Jack still didn’t respond, and Sam leaned closer, voice softening. “Look, I know it’s easier, but you can’t stay in your room your whole life. There’s a world out there, Jack, and it hurts sometimes. But it’s beautiful. It’s amazing, and we can’t experience that if we don’t step outside. And we can do it together. I’m scared too. I really am. But I have you, and we have each other’s backs. I know that.”

“So… zombies?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, gonna find us a zombie.”

Jack looked up at him, but at his cheekbones, just under his eyes, and he smiled, a genuine one.

“Cool.”

“Got it!” Sam announced, coming into the kitchen while Jack was eating a sandwich Dean had made for him. Maggie had just been in the room, biting her lip as she’d looked at him. Jack had ducked his head, and she’d left.

He had his tablet with him, and he sat down across from him.

“So Maxim Faulkner died in a car crash two weeks ago,” Sam informed him, “and three days ago he murdered, and _ate_ his wife. Police are still looking for him.”

“So where are we going?” Jack asked.

“Bentonsport, Iowa. Small town, so he shouldn’t be too hard to find. Remember how to kill zombies?”

“Nail them into their grave beds with a wooden stake through the chest,” Jack answered immediately, reciting words that Sam had drilled into him.

“Good. Get packed, and we’ll head out.”

Jack packed all that he’d need for the trip, and then he was standing outside Maggie’s door, bag by his feet, hand raised, nearly feeling the pinprick of sweat, wondering if he should knock.

The question was answered for him, when he heard her say from down the hall, “I’m not in there, you know.”

Jack jumped, startled.

“I’m going on a hunt,” he told her, turning. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

She came forward, sucking on her bottom lip, tentative. “And the other night? I thought you liked me.”

“I do.”

“Not in that way?”

“In that way.”

“Then what—”

“I got scared.”

Maggie laughed, and it eased Jack’s nerves.

“Can I…?”

He nodded, feeling excitement bubbling in his stomach, a heat in him as he looked into her brown eyes. She closed them, their lips coming together, and Jack found his eyes closing as well, a hand going to her back, pulling her close. He leaned back against the door, or maybe Maggie pressed him back against it — he couldn’t be entirely sure.

Her lips were soft and warm, and she sighed into him. Images of that night flashed through his mind, but also things he’d thought about sex.

Being inside someone.

Could he handle it?

Could he be inside Maggie?

Jack kissed back with more force, raising his other hand, cradling her head, thumb against her cheekbone by her ear, and he tilted her head back, deepening the kiss. Jack was nauseous from this, but he realized he wanted her. He wanted to know what sex was like.

Not rape, not that hurt, not what had happened to Sam.

But what it was like to be inside someone when they wanted it.

She pressed harder against him, and Jack thrust his hips forward, remembering the motion from Lucifer. She moaned, and he did likewise.

Someone cleared their throat.

Embarrassed heat flushed through Jack, and Maggie immediately pulled back from him.

Sam stood in the hallway, bag thrown over his shoulder, ready to leave.

His eyebrows were raised, eyes wide.

“Uh, Jack, ready to go?”

Jack’s face went red, and he glanced at Sam, glanced at Maggie, who wasn’t looking at him now. Back to Sam. He nodded, grabbed his bag, and they were heading out.

The ride to Bentonsport was over seven hours. Jack had wished he’d known that _before_ he’d agreed to this hunt. He hadn’t realized he’d be trapped in a car with Sam for that long, and now Sam was trying to make conversation with him.

“So, Maggie, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to have this conversation, so he stared at the plains rolling by, which didn’t serve to be that great a distraction.

“She know what happened to you?”

“She knows I got stabbed.”

“Okay, okay.” Sam said, nodding his head. “And how are you two—”

“I haven’t had sex with her,” Jack interrupted, knowing what Sam was getting at.

He faced him now, and saw that his face was red.

“Right. Well, I’m just worried because of… well, what happened in the church. You — _we_ haven’t been okay.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jack told him, slumping down in the seat, gazing out the window again.

“Okay. So back to Maggie, then. You planning on having sex?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”

“Because that’s a whole different conversation.”

“I had thought I’d want to know about sex,” Jack admitted. “I was picking up on some things from the movies I was watching, the TV shows, and I was interested, but now… Part of me still wants to try it for myself, see if… if it does hurt, or not. It’s not supposed to, right?”

“No, Jack, it’s not supposed to.”

“Then I want to have sex with Maggie.”

“You’re young. You sure?”

“I’m not human, so I’m old enough, right?”

Sam shrugged. “Guess so.” He laughed, it was a tad high-pitched, nervous. “Guess now I have to give you the talk about protection.”

“What?” Jack found himself sitting up in his seat, smiling, amused by this now instead of anxious.

“Protection. You know, one time we tried to have this talk with your father.”

“Did you?” Jack asked eagerly.

“ _Oh yeah_ ,” Sam admitted, drawing out the “oh,” and it happened to coincide with when he took a turn, so Jack laughed. “We found out he’d had sex, lost his virginity, so Dean asked him if he’d had protection, and you father answered, ‘ _I had my angel blade._ ’”

Sam was smiling, laughing at it now.

“Well, isn’t that protection?” Jack asked, confused.

“No, it’s not! Sex isn’t a fight, Jack. You don’t need a weapon. You need a contraceptive, something to make sure you don’t pass infections, or the girl doesn’t get pregnant.”

“H-how do you do that?”

The conversation had grown awkward again, but Jack wasn’t sure he minded. This was better than the horrid tension in the church, better than the pain he’d seen on Sam’s face. He’d take this over that any day.

“Condoms,” he answered, cheeks pink. “You put it on— well hopefully you get the picture.”

Jack did… he thought he did, at least.

Humans had invented something they could put on their penises?

Interesting…

“Smart,” Jack commented.

“Yep.”

“And there are different sizes?”

Sam laughed once more. “Yep. I hate this conversation, but we’ll figure this out when we get home, okay? I want you to be safe, not get sick or anything, and the last thing we need is a baby around. Maggie would probably hate you for that too. She’s busy with her own life. Besides, she probably just wants to have fun with you.”

“What if she loves me?”

“Does she?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you love her?”

Jack shook his head. “No.”

“Well, then, let’s hope she doesn’t love you. Okay, I’ve had enough of being the parent for one day. Get my tablet out, and try to find out more about the case. I left the articles up.” Sam waited till Jack had the tablet out before asking, “So the Faulkners have any other relatives we could talk to?”

“Um…” Jack scanned the article, and the other various information Sam had compiled. “A daughter, Emily. She’s 18.”

“Okay, so we’ll talk to her first, and we might have to keep her protected. Her father could go after her next.”

“Would he do that?” Jack asked.

That statement left images of Lucifer slashing into his throat blazing through his mind, of him punching him, stabbing him, attacking him.

His own father had hurt him.

A father could hurt their own child.

He’d lived it.

A monster could do it.

“Seen it before. She’s probably in danger.”

Jack asked, worried, “What if she’s dead when we get there?”

“Then we still work the job.”

Bentonsport, Iowa was a small town along a river that Sam told him was called the Des Moines. It didn’t have much land, or people, and had small shops and bed & breakfasts along a strip of road next to the river. They crossed over a rickety old bridge to get into town. Jack looked out over the river, saw that the waters were calm, almost sluggish, and were a dark blue.

He liked the town. The buildings were beautiful, built with brick and designs he hadn’t seen before. It was like Lebanon, but prettier. Much prettier. There weren’t any motels around, so he and Sam checked into a bed & breakfast, and then asked around to see where Emily Faulkner might be staying.

There was a next door neighbor, a boy, Jacob, and she was staying with his family. They’d grown up together, always had the same classes in the town’s oldest school.

Jack still wasn’t sure he was very good at pretending to be an FBI agent, even with the tan suit he had on, so he let Sam do the talking. They were let in to see Emily, and were given some lemonade by Mrs. Miller, Jacob’s mom.

The three of them were in the kitchen now, Emily with a box of tissues, not looking at them. Condensation ran down her glass of lemonade, and Jack stared at his, wanting a sip, but knowing he had a job to do.

Emily was pretty — pale skin, straight dark hair, gray eyes, and an angular, heart-shaped face. But she just looked so sad. Jack didn’t want her to be sad.

“Emily, we were wondering what you could tell us about the other night,” Sam said.

“I already talked to the sheriff,” she got out, voice nearly a whine.

Sam gave her a comforting smile. “Yes, but we just need to double check the facts.”

“They think I’m crazy,” Emily said. “People in town think I did it.”

“Does Jacob?” Jack asked.

Emily shook her head. “No, he would never. But I told them it was my dad.”

Jack shifted forward in his seat. “It was your dad, wasn’t it?”

She nodded, tears falling. “I don’t know how. I-I saw him. He looked so pale, like he was still dead. He-he talked to me, but he sounded sad.”

“What did he say?” Sam asked.

She shook her head.

“Emily, this is important. What did he say?”

“He said he wants to be with me.”

“Do you have any idea where he could’ve gone?”

“He had a couple of buddies in town, Rich Davis, and William Jones. They own the general store together over on Hawk Drive. Maybe he’s with them.”

Sam glanced at Jack, but Jack wasn’t completely satisfied with the information.

Someplace else. They needed another location in case he wasn’t there, and they couldn’t come back to interrogate Emily again.

“Where else?” Jack questioned.

“Um… He liked the historic bridge. He took me there a lot before he… before he died.”

“Thanks, Emily, that’ll be all.”

They were about to leave, and Mrs. Miller stopped them, “Oh, dears, have some of your lemonade. I insist.”

They took quick sips of their lemonade, smiled, thanked her, and then were heading out.

“So we head back to the bed & breakfast, sharpen some stakes, we go check out the general store, and then the bridge.”

“We could split up,” Jack suggested. “I can see the bridge from here. I could walk.”

“Jack—”

“Sam, I’ve been training with Bobby, and—”

“And he’s been giving me updates. Without your powers you need more work. We don’t split up.”

“Sam, I want to do this.”

“Fine, you want to do something on your own, I’ll sharpen the stakes, you go find where the graveyard is, and what grave he was in. You can start digging too, and open his casket. We gotta lure him in there.”

So Jack changed, and that’s what he set out to do.

No one had told him how difficult it was digging a grave, or digging up a grave.

Sam and Dean did it all the time with hardly a problem.

Jack was sweating and out of breath and sore, and he kept having to sit down and take breaks.

Hours had passed, and Sam came by the graveyard to help him finish, smashing open the casket. The sun was setting now, a red that streaked across the sky like smatters of blood.

“So I went by the general store,” Sam finished. “Rich Davis is missing. Has been for a day now.”

“Oh,” Jack intoned, not sure what else to say.

“Our zombie wasn’t there though. Thinking we might find his body by the bridge. He could’ve taken it there to snack on. The sheriff still hasn’t found the body either, but I’ve done a little digging on him, and if you ask me, he’s pretty incompetent.”

“Incompetent?” Jack didn’t know that word.

“Can’t get the job done.”

With the grave open, waiting for Maxim, their stakes at the ready, they headed down to the bridge. Jack was on high alert, walking slowly, tuned to every noise. Sam was beside him. A twig snapped to his left, and he turned, hoisting his stake high. Sam jumped back.

“Whoa! Jack, it was just me. I stepped wrong.”

Jack breathed hard, kept walking.

“Come on,” he told him, trying to lead this hunt now, wanting to show that he wasn’t incompetent. Off to the right was a pile of… something.

“Hold up,” Sam said. He walked over to it, shining his flashlight on it. Jack almost threw up at the sight. There was maybe half a human body left, everything torn to shreds, and he saw red, pink, white, blood and organs mixed with hair. “Guess we found Rich Davis.”

They kept walking.

The wood of the bridge creaked when Jack stepped up on it, and something rustled by the bushes at the end of it.

Sam put his flashlight away, and then put a hand out in front of him, urging him to stay back.

“Emily?” a voice called.

“Lower your stake,” Sam whispered. “Lower it.”

Jack did as he said, skin crawling.

“Emily?” The voice was haunted, lonely.

Creaking from the bridge as it walked over to them, drawing nearer, and Sam took small steps backwards, having Jack get behind him.

“Not Emily.” What was left of Maxim Faulkner started screeching at them, running, and Sam yelled, “But we can take you to her! You just have to follow us!”

“Emily!” he cried.

“We’ll take you to Emily!” Jack called, trying to copy Sam.

Sam did something Jack wouldn’t have the bravery to do, and he handed Jack his stake.

“What are you doing?” Jack whispered.

“I don’t want him to think I’m armed.”

“Do zombies think?”

“They think enough.”

“Alright, Emily’s this way,” Sam told him. “Jack, walk in front. Keep me between you and him,” he instructed quietly.

The walk to the graveyard was agonizingly slow, terrifying, and at a couple of points they’d had to fight off Maxim, who’d gotten a few bites of Sam, and one of Jack. He was hungry, still crying, moaning, wanting his daughter, wanting to hurt her, to eat her.

To kill her.

Jack’s heart was in his throat, knowing what it was like to be on the other side of that, to have a monster as a parent, to be hurt by their disgusting cruelty, by their tendencies that they couldn’t seem to help.

His hips ached.

Maxim screamed out for his daughter, a harsh, strangled cry in the loud summer night when they got to the graveyard, and he seemed to know what was happening. Sam tackled him, and they toppled over a gravestone, rock cracking, scraping into Sam’s leg. The zombie bit into his shoulder, Sam crying out, blood getting drawn, flesh tearing, and he pulled away, chewing. He wouldn’t let go.

“Jack, the stake!”

Jack tossed him one, and Sam caught it, driving it through his stomach, but still Maxim fought. Sam pulled the stake free, blood bursting forth from him in sickening spurts, and Jack thought he could see wriggling, gushing bits of damaged intestine.

“ _Emily!_ ”

Jack didn’t think of Lucifer in that moment.

He thought of Sam.

Sam could die.

Sam could become a ghost, or a zombie. A monster.

Sam could hurt him.

He could lose him.

He’d almost lost him.

In that church he’d almost lost him.

Jack let out a wordless cry, and rammed into Maxim, driving him all the way into his grave. They fell in, all six feet, the fall disorienting Jack for a matter of seconds, Maxim’s teeth tearing into him, but he ignored the electrifying, aching pain, and drove the stake straight through his chest, nailing him to his grave bed.

Maxim’s body went still.

Jack had killed his first zombie.

The way home wasn’t as bad as the way to Bentonsport had been. If anything it was less awkward, and Jack found it was easier to make conversation with Sam. He valued his company more than he had before, and he didn’t find himself wanting to run from him.

“How are you?” Jack asked.

“My injuries’ll heal,” Sam answered.

“No. The church,” Jack clarified.

“Oh.”

Tension lay thick in the car. If a spark was put to it a fire could start.

“I… I probably shouldn’t talk about it with you,” he went on. “Not my feelings anyway. They’re dark, unhappy. But if you’re feeling the same way, you’re not alone.”

“Have you told anyone?”

Sam shook his head. “No. It’s my big secret.”

“And I can’t tell anyone.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve been over this.”

“But, Sam, I’m in pain from this, from seeing what he did to you. Why can’t I tell someone else about that? Dean, Castiel — surely they’ll want to help you.”

“They won’t understand.”

“But—”

“They won’t.”

“Can I tell Maggie?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

Jack didn’t think that sounded like a very good reason, but Sam was growing angry, shoulders rising, tension coiling in him, so Jack gave up, leaning back in his seat. At least he could talk about the stabbing.

“We’re not alone,” Jack told him. “I know we’re not. Someone out there has to understand.”

“God, I liked the conversation about sex on the way up better.”

“Can sex turn into rape?” Jack asked, deciding to try and make the conversation about sex then.

Sam winced. “Jack, we’re not having this conversation.”

“But—”

“No.”

Feeling disappointed, like Sam was shutting him out, Jack crossed his arms, and gazed out the window, trying to count how many trees they passed, which weren’t very many at the moment.

“Is Sam mad at me?” Jack asked.

He was back at the bunker now. He and Sam hadn’t been able to talk much the rest of the car ride, and now Dean was in Jack’s room.

“Nah, he just needs some time for himself. Seems like he’s really thinking about something. What’d you say to him?”

Jack shrugged.

“Eh, whatever. He sent me in here to uh…” Dean’s cheeks colored. “Explain condoms to you? You gonna get laid, huh?”

“Laid?”

“Sex.”

“Oh, right. Sex.”

So Dean explained everything, seeming very awkward and uncomfortable about it, which Jack didn’t understand even though he was now human, but the next day, Jack walked to the store and got himself some condoms, hoping they were the right size.

Jack was working in the armory with Maggie and a few other hunters, taking care of the weapons, and he sidled over to her, bumping his hip against her. She glanced up at him, an excited twinkle in her eye, and he beamed down at her.

“How’d the hunt go?” she asked.

He answered, “I killed a zombie!”

“Ooh, I’ve never killed a zombie before, though I heard they’re less vicious in this world.”

“What were they like in your world?”

“Well, I’ve seen some episodes of _The Walking Dead_. They’re more like that.”

“Oh, walkers.” Jack winced. “Doesn’t sound good.”

He lost focus of what he was doing, was able to smell Maggie. Couldn’t really discern the scent, but he liked it, realized it was warm, welcoming. He leaned down, placing the gun on the table, and he murmured in her ear, “Hey, do you want to meet me in my room later?” he asked. “When everyone else is asleep. We have to be quiet though. Sam’s next door.”

Her face went a little red, and she looked up at him. “Jack, what are you asking me?”

He glanced around, saw that none of the other new hunters from Apocalypse World were watching them, and he discreetly pulled the condom just an inch from his pocket.

Maggie looked, and her eyes went big. She immediately went back to cleaning her gun.

“Jack.”

He hurriedly put the condom away, and went back to his task as well, but he was close against her.

“What?”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally. You?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. So… yes, but I just thought it’d happen… later.”

“Is now okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely.”

“Good.”

It was after dinner when they met up in Jack’s room. He was breathing hard when Maggie closed the door and leaned against it. Jack already had his socks and shoes off to make this easier, and Maggie did too.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Once. Her name was Leah.”

“Was Leah good to you?”

Maggie nodded, and Jack grabbed her arms gently, pulling her over to the bed. “What happened to her?” Maggied turned her head to the side, biting her bottom lip, tears building up in her eyes. “She died. An angel got her.”

“Have you…?”

Shaking his head, he sat on the bed with her, caressing her arms. Maggie was in a red blouse, and she’d put on some makeup. Jack brushed her hair behind her ear, fingers tingling from touching her, and their breaths were accelerated, hearts beating fast.

“First time. I’m actually nervous I’ll mess up.”

“Me too. I’ve never been with a boy, so… New body parts and all that.” Maggie laughed nervously, and then Jack pulled her in for a kiss.

He knew Lucifer had touched Sam in between his legs, so that was what Jack had to do for Maggie. He pulled her into his lap, and then rolled, twisting so that she was on her back, head against the pillows. Their kisses were gentle, and he decided he wanted to try tasting more of her skin, wanted to make her feel good. His lips traveled down her neck, and she sighed, tilting her head back, arms running through his hair, over his neck to his shoulders.

Jack’s hands got to her jeans, and Sam’s distress at having Lucifer unclothe him flashed through his mind, and he gripped onto her tightly to anchor himself. She breathed out hard, shifting up into him.

She wanted this. She’d told him so.

“Maggie, tell me if you want me to stop. Or uh…” he paused, coming up with an idea on the spot, and added, “hit me. I give you permission.”

“Kinky,” she joked.

Jack didn’t know what that word meant, but she seemed pleased, so he started undoing her jeans, and taking them off. Nervous and just wanting to get it over with, he took her underwear off with her jeans, and he lifted her shirt up.

She was different in between her legs than he was: pink folds that seemed to glisten slightly, and it filled him with a deep pressure in his gut that worked its way down in between his legs. Jack groaned, never having experienced such a thing before. He kissed the pale skin of Maggie’s stomach, and put a hand to her, trying to figure her out. Soon she was giving him instructions, which he was thankful for because he really did not understand a woman’s body.

Sam hadn’t told him it was going to be so complicated. He’d found where he could penetrate her, and she was wet, allowing for easy entry. She had him circle his finger as he entered her, going deeper and deeper, and she pressed her hips down into his hand. And she instructed him to have his thumb go higher, higher… until he found a little nub of flesh. Jack stopped kissing and sucking at her stomach to look down and see what he was doing, trying to understand her, wanting to be good at this.

“How am I doing?” he asked.

“You’re doing okay. You can put more pressure. You won’t break me.”

He pressed down with his thumb, and she pulled away a bit, biting her lip. “Okay, okay. A little less pressure.”

Jack did as she said, trying to find the perfect balance.

“Crook your pointer finger?” she requested.

Her body went limp, legs spreading wide, and Jack thought maybe he could see her nipples as hardened nubs through her shirt.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asked.

“God, no.”

“How do you know how to do this?” Jack asked, curious.

Maggie didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed as she caressed him, admitting, “I touch myself sometimes. Two fingers, Jack. Two fingers, now.”

He listened, and his jeans felt really tight. He wanted them to come off. Heat was working its way through him as well, but he was too busy with his hands — his other one caressing her thigh — to do anything about taking his clothes off.

It amazed Jack that he could fit his fingers — which he was now realizing were actually pretty big — in such a small opening.

“Maggie, am I going to fit in you?”

“Mm hmm. Oh yes, just like that.”

Maggie seemed to reach some new level of excitement, and Jack tried extra hard, but he couldn’t seem to get her over it. She pulled his hand from her, telling him it was okay, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and then she was taking her shirt off. She wasn’t wearing anything else underneath. Jack stared, taken with what a woman’s body looked like.

Would he like a man’s body too? He wasn’t sure. He thought he might, but right here, right now, he liked Maggie’s. She was all soft curves, some muscle, and pale, creamy skin.

Feeling odd that she was the only vulnerable one in this moment, Jack stood and took his clothes off, not having been human enough to be embarrassed by his nudity.

Sam’s skin flashed in his mind.

To distract himself from it, he rushed at the bed, grabbing her, kissing her hard, sucking at her lips, even daring to get his teeth involved.

When he pulled back she was breathless, saying, “Jack, I didn’t know you had that in you.”

He felt over her body, gripping her hard, and she settled on top of him, grabbing him in between his legs. He tilted his head back, thrusting up into her as she began to kiss his neck.

“Me either,” he admitted.

It was rough with just her hand and not any wetness, so Jack did what he thought was reasonable. Really, he wasn’t sure why she hadn’t thought of it. She was wet, he felt like he needed to be wet, so he ran his fingers through her folds, over her entrance, getting his hand as coated in her as he could, making her moan, and then he was pumping himself. Jolts ran through him from the sensation, and he wondered why he’d never touched himself like this before. It was magnificent. Maggie was breathing heavy, grinding down against his thigh, sucking on his jaw now, and Jack gripped her hair, pulling her head back to bite, overcome with the sensations in between his legs, so full he was aching.

He was so overcome with it all he almost forgot about the condom. He wanted to penetrate Maggie _right now_ . He didn’t care about stupid protection, wanted _her_ as she was, didn’t want some bit of latex between them.

But once he’d gotten the condom on — with quite a bit of fumbling — both of them laughing and kissing each other through it, saliva dripping between the two of them, Jack realized it didn’t matter so much. She touched him, and he still felt her.

She tried something, put her mouth on him, and Jack fell back on the bed, groaning.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, not sure where the words came from. Usually he didn’t talk like that, but wow, this felt good.

So this was what Lucifer had meant when he’d been talking about Sam’s mouth. He’d wanted to be in Sam’s mouth.

The thought of that without someone’s consent was horrifying. But here Maggie was doing it of her own free will. Oh, how he loved it, pleasure sparking all the way up into his stomach, making him light-headed.

She couldn’t take him in that far without starting to gag, and Jack didn’t like those sounds leaving her, so even though she was still forcing herself, he pushed her back, making her stop.

He pulled her towards him, pressing his forehead to hers.

“No. It’s okay.”

Maggie got on top of him once more, legs spread wide over him, ready to have him penetrate her, and Jack thought of Sam’s words:

“ _Sex is… Sex is good. It can be good, really good. It’s when both people want it._ ”

“Maggie, you want this?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“Yes.”

Jack wanted sex.

He didn’t want what had happened to Sam, was tired of his mind playing over what he’d witnessed.

He wanted good.

Maggie started sliding down onto him, movements slow, and Jack grabbed her hips with shaking fingers, so overcome with pleasure he didn’t know what to do with himself and started sucking on one of her nipples. She tilted her head back, crying out. He let her lead with this, still unsure how he could fit in an opening so small, and eventually he was in her all the way, Maggie panting, their cheeks pressed together, holding each other.

She was tense on him.

“Do you hurt?” Jack asked.

“Just a little.”

“But I thought sex wasn’t supposed to hurt,” Jack said, confused.

“It does a bit the first time, for the woman. Not used to,” — she shifted, a grunt leaving her that Jack couldn’t help but find intriguing, and he thrusted upwards, making her hold on tighter — “having a man in me.”

Jack thought the question he was about to ask sounded weird, but he posed it anyway, “Do you want me to get out?”

“God, no.”

She was taking deep breaths, insides squeezing him, making Jack whimper, and then she started to rock her hips on him, slowly.

“ _Mmph!_ ” was all Jack could exclaim.

He was sure there were swear swords that could better say how he was feeling, but he didn’t want to say those. Besides, he was too busy _feeling_ , feeling good, feeling Maggie around him, being inside her.

And he wasn’t disgusted with it.

He had thought he would be.

Lucifer had made him think penetrating another being was disgusting.

But it wasn’t. It didn’t have to be.

It could be amazing sometimes, under certain circumstances.

Maggie lifted herself up, and then back down again, shuddering, and she did that over and over again, picking up the pace till their skin was slapping together and the bed was shaking. Jack couldn’t take it, and fell down onto his back, pulling her with him, and he bent his knees, thrusting up into her as hard as he could, sweet, aching fire burning in him, kissing his nerves, caressing them with wanton ecstasy.

In a matter of minutes he felt it building in him, and then he felt it reach his peak. He wanted to cry out, but he worried Sam would hear, so he bit her shoulder, making her cry out, and have to bite his jaw. White pulsed through him, bliss like he’d never felt before, jolting all the way up from his toes, through his balls, pressure that hit, and hit, releasing over and over again.

When it ended Jack felt a tad gross.

Maggie did an odd thing and continued to ride him, leaving Jack curling around her, biting down harder, and she went at him more, till she was clenching rhythmically around him, moaning against him, skin hot and sweaty.

She rolled off of him, and they lay there for a bit before realizing they had to clean themselves up.

“Shower?” he asked.

“Oh yeah.”

Sam hoped Jack didn’t think he was angry with him. He wasn’t. He just knew his son was right. It wasn’t fair that Jack wasn’t allowed to talk about his trauma. Keeping him quiet about it wasn’t going to help him, but that meant one thing: he was going to have to tell Dean, and Castiel.

It was late at night after getting back from the hunt, Jack was in his room, and he was sure he’d seen Maggie go in there, so he wanted to get away, and went to Dean’s room to have a family meeting. They’d called Castiel in. Sam was sitting on the couch, head hanging low.

“I think you both know why you’re here,” Sam said.

“Yeah, you gotta tell us what happened to you,” Dean said.

Castiel put a hand on Dean’s arm, calming him. “Dean.”

“No,” Sam told them. “I am going to say something about me, but I’m doing this for Jack. I’m doing this because he’s hurting, because he went through more than getting stabbed. He saw something.”

Castiel knelt by Sam, hand on the couch, getting on his level, looking into his eyes.

“Sam, what did he see?”

“Lucifer, he uh…” Sam looked away, unable to meet the blue for very long. He glanced up at Dean. “Lucifer made Jack watch him hurt me.”

“Hurt you,” Dean reiterated.

“Touch me,” Sam added.

Everything went silent, and Sam wasn’t sure any of them were breathing.

Dean came and sat down next to Sam.

“And Jack saw this?” Dean questioned, trying to clarify.

“He was forced to watch the whole thing,” Sam admitted, happy that they were talking about Jack and that no one was asking him horrible questions:

“ _Were you naked?_ ”

“ _Was he naked?_ ”

“ _Does the Devil have a big dick?_ ”

“ _Did it hurt?_ ”

“ _Did you cum?_ ”

No, none of that. Just Jack.

Sam realized they weren’t asking those questions, but they might be thinking some of them, if only phrased less harshly. They could be imaging his suffering, most likely were.

“What do we do?” Dean asked.

“Do we talk to him about it?” Castiel.

“We just have to let him know he _can_ talk about it,” Sam said. “I told him he couldn’t. I… I was ashamed. I was wrong to tell him that. He’s our kid, and I… I was hurting and I messed up. You think he’ll be okay?”

Castiel was still staring at him with those blue, blue eyes, so very sincere. “Are you okay?”

Sam felt tears build up in his eyes. “No.”

Dean wrapped an arm around him, letting him lean his head on his shoulder.

“I gotcha, little brother. I gotcha.”

Castiel put his hand on Sam’s knee.

“I gotcha, Sammy.”

“Hey, Jack, can I talk to you?”

It was the morning after he’d been with Maggie, and Jack was eating breakfast with her. They couldn’t seem to stop touching each other, or stop giggling, and they’d kiss every few seconds, so really, they weren’t getting anywhere with breakfast. Jack was sore, had used muscles he hadn’t before, and Maggie was too, but they were happy about it. Sam had just come in, interrupting their latest bout of giggling, and kissing, but Jack didn’t mind much — he could see Maggie later.

“I’ll give you two some privacy.”

She kissed him on the cheek, and left, taking her bowl of cereal with her, though it was soggy by now.

Sam sat down across from Jack, heaving out a breath.

“Am I in trouble?” Jack asked.

“No, Jack, you’re not in trouble.”

“Is this about last night?”

Sam frowned. “What? What about last night?”

Jack’s eyes widened, and he glanced at the doorway, to where Maggie had left, then back at Sam. “Nothing.”

Sam rolled his eyes affectionately, as if he knew Jack was lying, and then he said, “So I talked with Dean, and Cas. They know what happened in the church. You can talk to them about it when you need to.”

“Sam, you didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did. You’re hurting, Jack. I see it. I was wrong to have you only confide in me. I’m not on my game. You know that. I’m hurting too. But now you have them on your side as well. You got three dads, so you might as well talk to all of them. No more avoiding everyone, okay?”

Jack thought of Maggie, thought of how well his hunt with Sam had gone, and he smiled. He decided to try out a word, a word he hadn’t really thought for a couple of weeks, but he was starting to feel better, so he said, “Got it, dad.”

“Alright, kiddo. You can have Maggie come back. I’m not gonna chase her off.”

His dad gave him a half smile, ruffled his hair, and then he left. Three dads. He did have three dads. Jack was content.

An itch started up in his throat, soreness, and Jack frowned, hoping it would just go away. He coughed, and droplets of blood landed on his hand.


End file.
